#blame all the issues on netflix

[sleepyeepy]

aggretsuko season 5 spoilers !!!

i did not like how season 5 ended at all :/ i feel like the whole show is built around retsuko and her struggles with autonomy in her adulthood. that was heavily emphasized in her relationships throughout the show.

she broke up with that one dude in season 1 bc she was projecting her ideals onto him, she called it off with tadano bc they wanted different things in life, and with haida i feel they just completely dropped the ball. not only did they fail at making their relationship a positive one but it’s not memorable at all. they are given no room to build their dynamic or even seem like a couple. I FORGOT THEY WERE EVEN DATING START OF SEASON 5 !!!

having the end of their story be a 5 second montage of them getting married just feels like the shitty cherry on top. retsuko struggles the whole show with her love life and ending it so suddenly and insignificantly feels like a slap in the face.

sorry for ranting lol but i just kinda wished they gave a little bit more effort into better developing such an important part of retsuko’s story.

[bydragonfireandblood]

You know, seeing everyone talking about the strike got me thinking about TV writers, and you know, come to think of it I haven't heard from Dumbass and Dipshit lately. Either I don't spend enough time on celeb Twitter or their career really did tank, more or less

They went for the queen and missed so badly they killed their careers instead?

[starlooove]

Also what’s the difference between them and superbat in which ur not demonizing the brown boy quickly

[enbycrip]

One common experience of disability all across the board - relating to everything from learning/intellectual disability to neurodiversity to physical impairment to chronic illness - is the way that “one little thing” can make everything - work performance, school performance, ability to communicate etc - go right off the rails and collapse.

This is an issue I frequently see abled doctors, therapists, psychologists, teachers, social workers etc speaking about in terms of “poor flexibility”, “need to teach resilience” etc etc, focusing on this as an issue *with the disabled person.*

And that illustrates absolutely *perfectly* why a) disabled people are the experts in disability, not abled “specialists”, and b) why the social model of disability *needs* to be taught and centred.

The issue in such circumstances is not some sort of “innate preference for rigidity” (you may laugh, but that’s a phrase I sadly *still* see used about autistic folks far too often) or even “innate widespread lack of capacity” in the disabled person. It is a symptom of a system - in this case, a disabled person’s *life* - that is under immense strain and operating without spare capacity available to be used to respond to unforeseen circumstances.

Disabled people are, almost universally, *master* adapters. Incredibly adept at adaptive thought; incredibly resilient and incredibly dogged. We are that way because we *need to be* to survive in a world that is incredibly ill-adapted for our needs. The reason we are *perceived* as “inflexible”, “rigid”, “fragile”, “incapable” etc etc is because we are, very very frequently, *already* operating at the limits of our capacity just to survive in a world that is incredibly hostile to our needs and to our existence.

The medical model of disability judges all people to exist in the same world under the same circumstances, and thus judges the disabled person to be “lacking” when we struggle. Thus the onus is put on *us* to “correct” this “lack”. “You need to build resilience”.

It is the exact same mindset that blames people living in poverty for their lack of available resources, and suggests “budgeting classes” or “stopping spending money on avocado toast and Netflix” instead of recognising the need to raise wages to liveable levels in low-paid work and provide genuinely affordable housing. Focusing on, and *blaming*, the individual rather than recognising the systemic injustice and the desperate need for systemic change.

“Resilience” as long-term quality more or less means “having the resources to put into dealing with unexpected difficulty while still maintaining other functions.” Whether those resources are time, energy, money, family or community support - if a person does not have access to enough of them, the system - in this case, their life - *will* become overstretched, and they *will* fail on one, or, very often, on multiple points.

That does not represent a personal or moral failure. It represents having access to insufficient resources to meet needs. It is genuinely that simple. And that is what needs to be addressed for disabled people to live and thrive.

[sweetnans]

I'm Still Your Boy

Pairing: f.reader/bakugo katsuki. tw: mention of break up, mention of violence but not described because bakugo isn't a bad boy, soft and persistent bakugo. a/n: a three part sequence between you and this boy who's sorry about letting you go.

You've been gone for a year. Bakugo tried to stay focused on his career and succeeded. He was the number one hero, after all. But you, you never left his mind.

He knows that he made a mistake. He scared the shit out of you the last time he saw you when you decided that the best for the both of you was leaving. And you did.

You made a career in another country, live the life that you never had the chance to live because of him. You were his best friend since you were kids, and then with the hormones, the changes, and the lack of reasoning, you became his girlfriend and that lasted for a few years, stealing all of your firsts.

You didn't blame him at all for taking away all the things that you loved because he was above them. And you didn't mind at all. He started his hero career after UA, trying in agencies, and after a couple of them, he made his own. You were happy for him. You wanted him to find the things that passionate him. But in the process, you lost yourself.

It happened one night, he was exhausted and the two of you started a fight. You said things that you regretted right after, and he became violent, not at you, but at everything that you made together. He had anger issues when you met him, but he never showed them when he was with you. That night, he was tired, and you were emotionally unstable because you had realized days prior that you were stuck and you didn't want your life to be someone's ornament.

So you left him and didn't look back.

Until today.

He knew from the moment that you gave your friends in common the news of you getting back to the landing of your plane. Kirishima wasn't so subtle when he was excited, and neither was Mina. They missed you too.

He has been pacing all day in his office thinking what he could do and how he could approach you without being so flagrant about it. He just needed to grow a pair and make a decision fast. He wanted you back, but he knew that it wouldn't be that easy. He knew that he fucked everything up, but never did anything to compensate his mistakes. He never called.

He, in fact, made a reckless decision that led him to the frontis of your house on a rainy night. The light on the first floor was lit, and he could see the shape of your figure through the blinds.

He could knock and sink in the ground when he sees you again.

You were in your kitchen, rearranging the food in the fridge that you bought earlier that day. You've made the cleaning and your laundry, so you were almost done for the day. The only task lingering in your list was putting the food in the fridge and in the pantry. You also bought some fast food to gain time. Once you were done, you'll go upstairs, cast some netflix, and enjoy it while eating french fries and a huge burger.

You were delusional. You didn't know what was coming.

A noise at the door startled you, making you drop the grapes in the kitchen counter. You could feel the presence of someone else in the house but when you turned around you didn't expect to be him.

"Bakugo," you said, looking at him half disconcerted and half scared.

Not by him, only by the fact that he was inside your house.

"Jeez, still hurts when you call me like that," he tried to dismiss the hurt in his voice by laughing a little. A sad laugh.

"How did you-"

You wanted to know a lot of things. How and why mostly.

"I taught you better than hide your spare key under the mat"

Yeah, that one was totally on you.

"I'll leave it in the flower pot next time." You tried to joke, but the atmosphere wasn't giving.

"And I taught you better than to eat that crap," he said, glancing at your food.

You tried to look offended, but he was right. The truth was that you never got the need to learn how to cook because he did the job just fine, and when he made up his mind about teaching you one thing or two about cooking, you were just used to his food so you never tried to even lit up the stove. When you left, you thanked Bakugo in your mind for teaching you how to cook, but it was a painful thing to do every day. You missed the bastard and hated him for getting you so used to him.

"It's late, what are you doing here?" You said grabbing your kitchen table to feel stable in your feet.

You thought about this moment. A thousand times, but you never imagined to be living it actually.

"I-" he stuttered. It wasn't easy for him either. "I wanted to see you"

"You better have an excuse better than that. You are dripping all over my floor, and I just moped it"

He looked at his boots. You were right. The rain was heavy outside, and he thought about knocking for about thirty minutes before he came with the great idea to home invade you.

"You're right," he said, determined to end his suffer and lift the permanent rock off his chest. "I missed you a lot. I was a fucking douchebag with you before you left. I know that you have made up your mind, but I made it worse. You could've left with me, I should have supported you like you did with me when I started this, " he pointed at his suit. "I was a shitty excuse of a boyfriend when you were everything to me" he sighed. His eyes started to get glossy before he noticed, yours as well.

You dreamed for the firsts months when you were outside the country that Bakugo would show up at your apartment and tell you that he fucked up and how much he missed having you around. You wanted this to happen, but right now, you could feel the turmoil in your head. You didn't know if him saying sorry after a year would change anything.

"I can't go back to what I made you feel, and I know that I fucked everything that we had, including our friendship, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure that you are what I want and that I can make things right again, after all this time" he said after a long silence filled with your sobs.

Your silence made him uncomfortable. In a way that he, for the first time, felt scared. Scared of losing you forever.

"I-" you grabbed your head with your hands while he made his way to you, crossing the kitchen and closing the distance to put one of his fingers under your chin.

You lifted your head to look at him. Everything was happening in those crimson eyes. Every emotion, sadness, fear, expectation, and the most important of all, hope.

"I can't be without you," He needed you. He needed to be yours.

You weren't sure. You were scared, too. You didn't want to get hurt again.

You grabbed his hand, joining his fingers with yours. And made your decision.

"I'm sorry"

He felt his heart sink. It was a possibility, but in his mind, you've missed him the same that he missed you.

He wasn't a man that would accept a no from anyone, but with you, it was different. He told you everything that he needed to tell you, he exposed his heart to you and he was convinced that everything he was feeling, you felt it too.

It wasn't a rotund, no.

That night, after he discarded his damp clothes and laid in bed looking at the ceiling, he remembered the first time that he knew that he had feelings for you. He gave you a shitty speech about his feelings. He was only seventeen, and he was rough, didn't have any tact to tell people mundane things, much less speaking about his feelings. He remembered your face, pretty disconcerted at the beginning, but in the end, you were trying to contain your tears from falling. That time, he didn't tease you for crying. He remembered what cracked you up, the last part of his speech of how much he wanted to be with you.

"Brat, I know nothing about love, but I better be yours."

Part 2

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[paraphwrites]

followup on my post about dbda & loneliness.

'dead boy detectives' is a show where fundamentally, every character is very very lonely. but, they make each other less lonely. jenny is a surrogate parent for crystal, edwin and niko are always there for each other, crystal and charles understand each other, charles and edwin complete each other. there's just something so beautiful that even though they are all in pain and lonely, they are not alone, they have friends who would literally die for them.

i realized i was queer pretty young and in a very non-accepting environment. i was the only queer person i knew for a really long time, and that was really hard for me. and there was something devastatingly beautiful about watching edwin go through the a similar journey and not be alone.

dbda is important for a million reasons. but i would like to focus on one reason in particular.

'dead boy detectives' illustrates that there are multiple different ways to realize one's queer identity. you have simon, who is so wrapped up in self-hatred that he tears other people down with him. you have edwin, who is utterly unwilling to express any desire in such a way but ultimately embraces it. you have monty, who seems to have always known he was queer and always been very okay with that. you have charles, (i include him because i believe he is, but that can be debated) who goes on a long journey to realize it due to his circumstances. and they are all valid, and they are all real, and some of them hurt other people. because when the world hurts you so fundamentally, sometimes you end up hurting other people too. and you have people who have never had an issue with being queer, and that's great. and you have people who have to come to terms with it and it is hard and it is beautiful but they don't have to do it alone.

and that MATTERS. so often in media, we have a narrow, limited perspective for what realizing one's queer identity means. but there are so, so many different ways to figure yourself out, and dbda shows that in a very tangible and real way

the stories you tell are the stories we hear. so if @netflix only wants to tell stories about straight white people (maybe featuring a token gay character, so they can put it under the lgbt section), then that is the stories that people will hear

chimamanda ngozi adichie gave an incredible ted talk, back in 2009, called 'the danger of a single story.' in it, she discusses how, when you only tell & hear a singular story about a certain group of people, that becomes how you perceive the entire populace.

when a coming out journey is limited to its popular depiction (*realizes* *is kinda sad* *gets a bf*) then that is what all queer people are reduced to

look, i get that netflix has a couple of great shows featuring multiple queer characters, and i've watched & loved most of them. but god if i am not tired of people telling me to watch heartstopper. (i did & it's great & that's not the point.) the point IS that there should not be Two Gay Shows on your platform. because then the entirety of queer people are reduced to that.

now, maybe if it was just dbda, i wouldn't be so up in arms.

BUT THE FUCKING PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY ADAPTATION?????????????????????????????????

you CANNOT reduce queer people to shows that aren't worth renewing. you CANNOT erase queer characters from classic lit just because you want it to be more mainstream. when you do that, you are reducing queer identities to the single story you are willing to tell.

(to be clear i'm not blaming all of homophobia on netflix. i am simply pointing out a way in which they are contributing)

[snzhrchy]

Hi hru 👋🏾

I have a request for Wednesday on Netflix maybe you could write xavier and the reader having a fight and then he suddenly kisses the reader. Only if you want

— ☆ THOSE FEW DAYS !

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis; you’re just concerned about your boyfriend’s issues but it leads to a terrible argument between you two yet you both still long for eachother.

warnings; none :)

taglist; lmk if u wanna be on it !

Ever since the arrival of Wednesday Addams in Nevermore and the unfortunate expulsion of Rowan, your boyfriend, Xavier Thorpe had been acting rather, unusual, to say the least.

Yes, he did lose his roommate and he was being tormented by frequent nightmares of a creature — it was enough to make one lose their sanity. Yet today, in particular, he was acting odd.

You noticed that today, he was feeling uncomfortable, bothered by the slightest conversation, as if he were scared. He also was making an attempt to cover his neck either with his collar or hands. You observed that the reason as to why he was hiding his neck was due to the large red scars that were planted on it — worst of all, they were fresh. They looked as if a creature had attacked his neck as it appeared that maybe claws were the cause of it.

You overheard him informing Wednesday that the scars were due to fencing class yet you knew him better than anyone — he wasn’t that careless to get injured so terribly in fencing. It was probably due to another cause.

Eventhough, deep down you knew you shouldn't inquire him about his latest injury something had urged you to question him about it. You wanted to know why he looked and felt so terrified. After all, you were his girlfriend, shouldn't you have a right to know?

Reluctantly, you made your way to his art studio which was an old shed he had cleaned out. You knew he was in it due to the slow hum of the music you could hear from the outside and the small light rays that penetrated out of the shed's windows.

Xavier would visit the shed whenever he was in distress. Lately, he'd been visiting it quite often as he was tortured by all his horrifying dreams and the events occurring in Jericho. The rumours of the creature in the woods weren't helping either.

One, two, three. You knocked thrice onto the door, patiently waiting for the man inside to let you in. After a few moments on waiting, the door finally opened to reveal an anger-stricken Xavier, who leaned against the doorway of the shed.

His palms were coloured in different shades of blue and red, indicating that he was painting. Whereas his eyes were both avoidant of your gaze. He kept glancing at his shoes, not even bothering to greet you — other times, he'd let you in, showing off anything new he had painted.

You broke off the awkward silence with a small cough, 'can I come in?' you lightly asked as you attempted to smile at him. Still not meeting your eyes, he replied with a simple 'sure,' and moved out of the way so that you could enter.

You looked around and were horrified at the sight of the inside of the shed. Nearly every corner was filled with sketches, drawings and paintings of the creature - some scribbled messily while others were decorated in detail. You now knew that his nightmares were only getting worse even with his multiple therapy sessions, he still wasn't getting any better.

'So what do you want?' Xavier asked with no emotion. You turned to look at him after finally tearing your eyes away from the gnarly pictures he had drawn. 'I just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling,' you replied, 'I noticed your scars and I wanted to ask you...' you trailed off, unsure of how to continue since you noticed that his expression hardened.

'Why? So you could blame me for all the murders?' he snapped. You had no idea what Xavier could possibly mean by that statement. Did someone blame him? Was that he was feeling so sour?

'No, I don't blame you at all and you know that. I was just here to check up on you and-' before you could finish, you were cut off by Xavier: 'well, I don't need you checking up on me, I'm perfectly fine. Stop pretending like you ever actually cared,' he shouted.

All the worry you had about him left you immediately, you yelled back at him as he yelled at you. You both were shouting back and forth, throwing cruel words at eachother. Until, you had had enough. Your eyes and cheeks were now stained with tears, your lips were bleeding due to you biting them aggressively and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

His harsh words were enough for you to finally leave his shed, filled with rage and sadness. Clearly, he was not feeling alright and took out his anger on you. You were just trying to check up on him, what could've caused him to feel like this?

To be honest, you were angry at him, terribly angry. You stormed into your room, trying to block off any thoughts you had about him. Yet you couldn't since no matter how foolish he acted, you still liked him.

Rave'N was suppose to be a fun and eventful night for any outcast. Well, any outcast except for you. Ever since your argument with Xavier, you didn't bother talking to him, even when he attempted to apologise to you.

You went with your friend and roommate, Yoko and instead of moping over Xavier, you decided to actually enjoy yourself. It was a party after all, you were suppose to enjoy yourself here. The drinks and loud music were finally making you forget all about Xavier.

After a couple of drinks and a few dances with Yoko, you were finally exhausting yourself. Tearing away from Yoko and the dance floor, you finally sat down on a table you presumed to be empty to rest a bit before going back.

'I see you're enjoying yourself here,' a familiar yet unexpecting voice called — the last voice you wanted to hear right now. Sighing, you turned to look at the unwelcomed face of Xavier. You raised your brow, 'So? It's a party,' you replied, not even bothering to pay attention to him.

'Hey listen...' he began as he sat himself next to you. You knew what to expect, for the past few days, Xavier had been attempting to apologise to you for his harsh words yet you didn't bother listening to any of his apologies; most of the time, Yoko would just tell him to leave.

You sighed and turned to look at him, 'you've told me that same apology multiple times but you have to realise that I was really hurt by your words... I was just worried.' This was probably the longest conversation you both had this entire week.

'Xavier, I understand you were hurting back then but I just kinda wished you ta—‘ before you could finish your statement, you got interrupted by a pair of lips on yours.

It was a surprised gesture but you reciprocated it almost immediately; you missed this so much. You’d never admit it but you really did miss Xavier loads. Just by kissing him, all the events of the past few days were lost; you just wanted to be with him.

Once you two pulled apart, Xavier looked at his shoes, avoiding your gaze again — it looked as if he was embarrassed of his actions.

‘I’m really sorry about that, y/n. I shouldn’t have done that,’ he stated apologetically. Deep down, Xavier longed for things to go back to the way they were. He felt upset and he missed you so much.

‘Hey, it’s alright. I’m kinda over it besides, you were just on edge back then; we both said things that we regretted. I understand,’ you gently spoke. Xavier looked at you with hopeful eyes yet he didn’t utter a single word.

The last thing Xavier expected you to do was stand up and offer your hand to his, inviting him onto the dance floor.

‘Come on,’ you said as you happily dragged him to the dance floor.

[i-lost-my-heart-in-republic-city]

Only villains are allowed to be complex in Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender

I had a major issue with the treatment of the original gaang in natla and I think it has to do with character flaws. As in, they don't have any.

In the case of Aang, other characters keep telling him that he can't ignore his responsibilities but when do we ever see him actually do this? When does he seek out distractions to avoid his duties, like penguin sledding, or riding elephant koi, or hiding in a cave? Hell, the reason he gets trapped in the iceberg is changed. In natla he was only going out on a short flight with Appa and gets caught in a storm. In the original he ran away, and it's understandable because he felt alone and out of control of his life. But it is still a choice he makes, to run away from his responsibilities, and he has to deal with the consequences.

In natla there is no choice to run away, it's fully an accident and it takes away his agency as a character. So when Bumi starts blaming him for the war it really rings hollow because it was all an accident. It has more weight when a random fisherman blames him in atla because at least in that version he did make a choice to runaway. Obviously he had no way of knowing what would happen and he never intended to abandon the world to genocide and war. But that's the thing about life, you never know the full consequences of your decisions, and you just have to deal with them when they happen. The war is not Aang's fault, but he did make a bad decision, and it had far reaching consequences. It made Aang's character more relatable and gave him a starting place from which he could grow as a character. He had to learn how to accept responsibility for his actions without blaming himself for the actions of other (i.e. Sozin starting the war).

I feel like in the case of Katara, they stripped her passion and anger. They explored Katara's PTSD but they take away how angry it made her. Anger is a totally normal response to trauma. While letting yourself be consumed by anger is obviously bad, anger can also be channeled into passion and energy to enact positive change. This was a big part of Katara's character in atla, learning how to control her righteous indignation and use it to fight for the rights of other. She has none of that anger here, so there is no character growth and no emotional connection to the character through that arc.

This especially falls flat in her 'feminist arc.' She fights with Pakku but there is no anger, no fire in her. In atla at the end of the fight, even though she was pinned down and had clearly lost, she was still going. She was almost feral. Even though she was worn out, her passion of fighting for what is right still fueled her. She would not give up. So I guess it's fitting natla's unpassionate Katara just falls down at the end of the fight. And they cut out the whole importance of the necklace, which serves as Pakku's realization on how his sexism has negatively impacted his own life. It's this realization that motivates him to reevaluate his beliefs and agree to train Katara. Which needs to happen because having a master's tutelage is what allows her to become a master herself. Alta makes it clear that she excels because of her hard work and determination along with guidance from a mentor. There's none of this in natla. They just start calling Katara a master because 'girlpower' I guess? They certainly don't show how she became so talented. But natla Katara doesn't need help from other people to grow. She's already a master. She's already perfect.

Sokka is also stripped of his flaws as well. Obviously we know he is not sexist in natla. I don't think this is inherently a bad change, but you have to understand how the sexism impacted his character in atla and adjust accordingly. In atla, Sokka's sexism is really the origin of his all his insecurities. He believes there are roles for men and roles for women. Protecting the tribe is a man's job. So when the men go off to fight in the war, he believes he must carry the burden of protecting the tribe as the oldest male. He sets himself up for failure because he places impossible standards on himself. He cannot protect and lead the tribe all by himself, especially not when he is a young child. This leads to him feeling inadequate because he cannot measure up to his own impossible standards or his idealized version of his father (who was an adult and had the support of his tribesmen).

I could still see a way to still adapt atla without the sexism. (For example Hakoda tells Sokka to look after his younger sister. He takes that to an extreme of being overprotective of the whole tribe. And we are back at him failing to met his own impossible expectations again). But natla doesn't do this. Instead it just throws in a flashback of Hakoda saying that Sokka isn't fit to be a warrior. This kind of defeats the purpose of Sokka's own internal conflict about not measuring up to his own unrealistic expectations. Now it's his father's expectation's he doesn't measure up to. This is not a bad story beat in and of itself. It works well with Zuko. But it's not Sokka's character conflict. In alta Sokka's insecurities, internal expectations, and sexism also cause him to lash out at others sometimes. He's not allowed to act so negatively in atla. So again there is no place for him to grow as a character, as he does not have these flaws.

Honestly it seems like they tired to removal all negative character traits from the main characters, which makes them feel more stiff and allows them no room for growth. I really wanted to like this adaptation. And I do think there are some changes they do really well. But those changes are related to the villains and they just drop the ball so hard with our main characters.

[ghouldtime]

Fun fact, I’m terrified of mimics, like terrified. I watched a show called haunted on Netflix and the first episode of season two was about a mimic and I’ve been scared of them ever since. Ok now that that’s out of the way, please I need more of mimic!Gaz if that’s ok? I feel like he’d be the only one that doesn’t make me wanna run far far away

I can't blame you. Mimics can be anywhere, anything, at anytime. They can take the place of someone you know in the blink of an eye, they can take the spot of your favorite pillow you swore you lost two days ago - that's what makes them so scary. THAT is what's scary, you never know what you're truly going up against

Also please note that my idea of a mimic may vary from others! Usually, I see them as something that can mimic their surroundings. Whether that be voices, people, or things to blend in

Some more about mimic! Gaz

Just because he's a monster doesn't mean he's a monster

Though he may be a mimic and may, by definition, be a monster - he's still retaining his humanity. He still has a set of morals, he still has his own aspirations, hopes, and dreams

He is, however, still very much a monster. A monster who can and does eat people. But that's not indiscriminately

Truth be told, though his kind is known for the whole 'eating people' deal, he's not a huge fan of it. He'd rather not do it because then he'll be questioning himself and where he stands

Doesn't mean he can't or won't. Being a mimic means he's effective at it, it's a great way to get rid of evidence and to take out anyone against him. He'd just rather reserve it to those occasions

He's still very much the Gaz we love! Even if his default form doesn't look close, the appearance we know him as is what he prefers. It's how he sees himself in his mind's eye after observing humanity for so many years, so it's how he presents

He feels the traits he chose represent him best after seeing them displayed on many people throughout the years and it really is how he feels. He combined them into an appearance he liked. He usually maintains and keeps himself in that form, he'll only shift back to the default state if truly injured or extremely sick. Otherwise, he's mainly looking like his normal, handsome self

(Technically, he's an 'original' being in his human form since everything about him was taken and melded into who he is from those who already existed before him who he interacted with)

The main thing you'll notice on him that may set off some alarm bells would be his canines. Those things are SHARP. But other than that and a few weird slightly not-normal habits (like seemingly not needing nearly as much rest as a healthy human should and being able to easily eat bones), he seems to be a stand up guy

He mainly takes the form of a human because humanity has interested him ever since he came into this world. Though he doesn't understand the full range of emotions, comprehending them and the world as a whole from their point of view was so incredibly fascinating

Not to mention, the human world itself is incredible too! He wanted to be apart of that, and not just in the background or hiding in the shadows

He understands why his kind aren't exactly liked and are feared, but in this day and age, it's significantly less of an issue for him since humans have mostly moved on past their fear of monsters and are so easily distracted with technology

He can mainly use his form to his advantage now, allowing him to easily blend in and out of the background as he pleases. It allows him to get into many private places (such as lecture halls) and into areas he otherwise never would consider or be able to access

He's a curious guy, he likes to learn. He still has a lot to know, even after all these years, but he isn't there to just eat people or betray your trust. He's not simple minded

He's just another being with his own thoughts, emotions, feelings, and past! He tries not to let his nature define him, even if it can distinguish him from being a human alone

You'd probably never know he's a mimic but if you're one of the few who expressed you really didn't care, you just like him for him, he'll be happy to change around you

At least it can make for great photo ops and is incredibly convenient for nearly any scenario you can think of

Seriously, be his pal, he's still just a guy! Just in a different body with a little bit of a different mindset :D

[yuri-is-online]

tragedy anon back again w u guess it!!! More tragedy!!! Im thinking rn of a Yuu who was always going to die in the end. Like being sent back to their world is the equivalent to a death sentence, and they can't stay in TWST because time always loops and they feel like shit for trapping everyone in a moment when they could all be living their lives if not for them.

Yuu who has always been doomed from the start.... Like maybe yuu has been framed for a crime back in their prev world and when they do come back their execution will commence or maybe it's the apocalypse and when they do come back it's truly only a matter of time when they die. Thinking of the TWST boys who goes to visit them only to find nobody..... But traces of them.... Though I feel like the first scenario is more brutal, imagine you go visit your friend and not only are they dead but they were sentenced to death for a crime you know damn well they did not commit and everyone else is rejoicing.

Rejoicing that they're gone. Rejoicing at the fact that they all had KILLED them. Did Yuu know this was going to happen? If they did why had they not told them?! (they will never know, no one ever will because no one ever asked when they were alive if they were alright and they sure as hell will never get an answer because Yuu is dead and they are gone. Forever. )

:3

Ah tragedy annon, my Billy Shakes if you will, this made me THINK think. Doomed (hehe dyuumed) by the narrative is such a sexy trope. "If you were dead at the end of the story you were dead since the beginning" my beloved.

The main thing that made me think is that in country's that have the death penalty there's typically a lengthy appeals process + a ban on sentencing minors to it, even if they were charged as an adult, that makes it hard for me to see that being Yuu’s situation. That being said I agree that would be an awful, awful thing to come see. I could see someone like Malleus, who hates seeing other people happy when he isn't and is prone to causing storm with his magic, going full Netflix Castlevania and starting an apocalypse in Yuu's world while bringing their body home to be laid in state in Briar Valley. It's his right as King of the Abyss after all. Someone like Riddle might try proving your innocence, thinking about how restoring your good name is all he can do while the Octatrio extract their own kind of justice.

The apocalypse Yuu scenarios are ones I like but haven't played around with much just because post apocalyptic settings aren't my jam but! I could see there being a lot of anger at this Yuu for not telling them their situation. Of course now that the boys are older, they can reflect on their behavior and know why Yuu said nothing. But it's easier to blame Yuu at first than accept that they're grieving. It would take them a long time to work through that I think.

My personal preference for scenarios like these involve Yuu being mortally injured before coming to Twisted Wonderland, either in an accident or an attack, that results in their death when they return. I've also played around with terminal illness that's temporarily cured by going to Twisted Wonderland (my own health issues have made me like that less :/) that Yuu isn't recovered from when they return. Either way Yuu is dead when their friends finally figure out a way to get to their world and they have no way of being there for them. And they have no one to blame but themselves... unless.

Unless...

Maybe they could re-set time again?

[lover-of-mine]

i think the main issue is actually how media is consumed these days. Certain age groups don't remember when releasing shows weekly was the norm. Now entire shows drop all eps at the same time and there's no need to wait and speculate in-between or deal with weekly breaks. People just can't enjoy a show patiently anymore because we don't ever really need to wait, it's just available

Oh yeah, I 100% blame Netflix for 70% of the horrible takes I see about 911. People don't know how to appreciate a show that airs in a consistent schedule. Maybe is the growing up on telenovelas in me, but we get a little bit of the story every week with consistent breaks for summer and winter and this is way more enjoyable than an 8 hour movie split into 8 episodes you'll watch in one sitting. People don't know how to deal with anticipation. If it's not happening now then it's not worth it and that's boring.

[dresshistorynerd]

I think we can all agree that this is dumb, right? Though the title is highly misleading and the quote marks around "ban" do a lot of work here. These companies just no longer requires actresses to wear structural garments. Still a dumb and bad solution to the problem of badly made costumes.

Couple of my issues with the article:

The purpose of the corset or any other similar structural garment wasn't to reduce waist, but to provide support and shape the silhouette. In the article someone from Netflix commented that they shouldn't promote that women should make their waists smaller, apparently it's "bad optics". And from Neflix the main series where corsets are no longer required is Bridgerton, because one of the main actors had bad time with her stays. But if you take just one quick look at the Regency silhouette you will see the waist is far from reduced. Literally there is no waist. Completely covered. They have been doing something terribly wrong if they have made Regency stays that pinch down the waist. Some actors also seem to think the waist is supposed to be reduced all the time. I remember that one actor in HBO's The Gilded Age complained about the corset, but then in the same breath admitted that she had asked the costumers to make it purposefully a little too small so she could be tight-laced all the time (a practice some fashionable rich Victorian women did for high society events, and definitely not all the time). But beyond the inaccuracies in the article, there is an issue here. Structural garments supported the bust yes, but also in many periods they supported the weight of the dress. In 17th and 18th centuries and Victorian Era the skirts of rich women especially had a lot of heavy fabric which would be hard to deal with and move around with, if all the weight is only on the waist. But with a structural garment it distributes the weight to the whole torso, especially on the hips.

A structural garment needs to be fitted well and worn with with a shift underneath. It absolutely can be uncomfortable, create bruising and restrict breathing, if it's not well fitted. If you have ever used too small jeans that contain no spandex at all, you know how nasty the effects can be on the skin. Especially TV sets often have very little time for creating costumes and they might have just one fitting or at tops two or in worst case scenario none at all, which very easily leads to ill fitting costumes. That is a huge issue with structural garments. I've been making transitional short stays for myself and I have never made a garment like that so I'm still struggling fit it well (it's unfinished), and I can say it's not comfortable when it doesn't fit well. I haven't watched Bridgerton but I have seen couple of screencaps of different scenes with characters wearing stays and no shift to be seen anywhere. I really do hope they actually are wearing shifts when they have the full outfits on and just didn't wear them in these scenes for aesthetics or something. Because, yes, that will absolutely give you bruising, if you wear any type of fitted and structured garment against your skin without any fabric between it and the skin, against which the structural garment can slide against. It would be irresponsible to put your actors in such garments without shifts. I don't blame the actors for complaining about the "corsets", since I can believe they are uncomfortable if they are not well fitted or god forbid if they aren't wearing shifts.

I don't know how many times this needs to be said: corsets are not torture devices. While I don't blame the actors for complaining, reading comments like this kills one brain cell every time: "Women existed in that for such a long time, which does give you a lot of sympathy for that time period and what they were going through. For the first month, I couldn’t breathe." I'm sorry, but women literally did physical labour in corsets. They climbed mountains in corsets. (I have a whole post related to this.) Do these people really think so little of women in the past that, if corsets really were torture devices, they would have just endured them quietly for centuries? Of course the most fashionable clothing in a lot of the periods were uncomfortable and hard to move in, even restrictive, but those were the court gowns and ball gowns the young fashionable elite wore for the special evening occasions to show off to the high society. But does that really differ from today? If you look at the MET galas and stuff, do these actors really claim the outfits are comfortable? The everyday clothing and the clothing of the working class was fairly comfortable, and yes, they all wore corsets.

Yes, you can make properly fitted, comfortable supportive garments for costumes in any production. The proof is in opera. Opera singers wear corsets in a lot of productions. I have read many accounts by opera singers who talk about how their corsets are well fitted and actually makes singing easier, because you can "lean" on the corset (I don't know anything about singing, but that's what I have seen them say). Also they tend to wear those large and heavy period dresses and as alluded earlier moving on them on stage without corset would be very hard. Singing also would be harder as the singers could easily become breathless from moving the heavy dress without using the muscles on the whole body. Operas have much smaller budget than these big tv and movie productions, so there's really zero excuses for making badly fitting corsets.

So yes, it's dumb, it's inaccurate and kinda infuriating. But it's also actually pretty sinister. The issue isn't actors wearing corsets for many hours, that's what people have done for ages and still do in re-enactments, opera etc. The issue is that there's too little time for fitting and sewing the corsets in modern tv and movie production. And this is part of a much broader issue. Costume designers and makes are unionized in Hollywood and for a while now Hollywood studios have tried to cut the amount of unionized behind the scenes labour they employ.

Making profit from a movie or a tv show is not good enough anymore. Now productions that don't "perform as expected" are seen as flops. The production companies make predictions of profit and green light projects they have calculated to make most profit, and if they don't make that high profit, it's a flop and it won't get the planned sequel or the next season. To achieve those high profits they also do everything they can to lower the production costs, and one way is by employing as little unionized labour, to whom you have to pay fair wages, as possible. So costume departments are then very often understaffed and they have way too little time to produce the costumes in proper quality. This can be seen very blatantly in the clear drop in quality of movie costuming during the past couple of decades. So the reducing of structural garments in costumes seems like yet another attempt to reduce unionized labour disguised as feminism.

Obviously the good and smart solution to the problem of uncomfortable structural garments is to hire enough costumers for long enough time so they can have multiple fittings and make them better.

[sassyfrassboss]

“I truly believed that he was fully aware of Meghan's tactics and shenanigans with leaking to the press about his family. Then I watched the Netflix doc and I realized she has his completely snowed.” I’ve always believed there was the PR she instigated that he knew about and approved and PR she did behind his back. Like the PR about awards, IG, polo, etc that make them look good, he was okay with. Attacks on the family, the rumors, negative articles about him, even negative articles about herself for “woe-is-me look how mean they are” PR he didn’t know about or refuses to believe she’d go that far. She gets papped conveniently when he’s out of town and she’s alone or with “friends”. There have been so many signs but that means he’d have to accept that everyone who warned him about her were right and he was wrong.

Her full on PR attack against Kate from 2017 - 2022 was crazy.

The 2018 stuff was overwhelming. She had articles, like 10-12 a day coming out. Most were about how much better she was than Kate and how Diana would have love Meghan much more than Kate. Also, how Meghan would be a better PoW and Queen and Mother than Kate. My faves were how Meghan was much better suited for William than Kate...lol

Anyone looking at the massive amounts of PR article during that time and thinking that all of those bashing Kate and placing the blame on Charles OR Kate is off their rocker.

The funny thing is, Meghan was mad about the article that were RIGHT! Those were the ones she had issues with. The Kate in tears for instance. So many reporters have come out and said "100% we know for fact Kate was in tear because Meghan made her cry." So why would KP issue a denial for something that DID happen. However, Meghan later was "sobbing on the floor of her closet and Harry found her" but of course she conveniently never mentions if in fact Kate was also crying.

[jinxhallows]

Chris, werewolf or vampire au, you asking him to bite you for the first time while intimate. Anything else goes! 💜

I know you didn't ask for all dis but I felt inspired so thanks :) I picked vampire since most folx do wolfchris.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ sʟᴇᴇᴘs [ ʙᴀɴɢᴄʜᴀɴ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀᴜ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ] ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: 𝟷𝟾+ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴄʜʀɪs, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ, ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟷ᴋ

In that blurred state between awake and asleep, an unsettling jolt shakes you into consciousness, as if you were dangling on the edge of a cliff. Startled, you awaken on the couch, yawning and taking in the surrounding darkness. The paused Netflix series, interrupted by the persistent question, "Are you still watching?" lingers on the screen.

To be honest, you had long lost interest in the show, drifting away to find solace in the soothing embrace of slumber. Your weary mind, burdened by the irrevocable sorrow of losing your closest friend, sought refuge in the realm of dreams. As you glance around the dimly illuminated living room, you remind yourself to tidy up the scattered clothes strewn across the floor. Empty water bottles have accumulated like forgotten relics on any available surface, accompanied by a disheveled pile of unwashed dishes, a task that feels insurmountable in your current state of apathy.

It’s been exactly twenty four days, ten hours, and six minutes since you saw Chan die right in front of your eyes.  Time becomes your tether, an illusion of control amidst the chaos that now engulfs you. In the prime of his youth, brimming with aspirations, Chan was snatched away too soon. The bond you forged in college carried you through the vibrant years of your twenties, but now, as you approach the threshold of thirty, he is painfully absent, no longer there to mock your aging despite being a mere year your junior.

Chan would give you endless advice about issues that now seemed to be so petty and irrelevant, and when texts weren’t enough at 12am, he would phone you to try to get you to relax and go to bed, promising to destroy you in a good ol’ game of mario kart the next day if you’d get some rest.  He was wrong, you always dominated in mario kart, but the competitive shit talking would effectively distract you, which was the whole point.  You’d hang up the phone feeling lighter somehow, as if he snatched the problems right from your shoulders and cast them into the skies.

In the realm of forbidden love, Chan possessed all the qualities that could make him the perfect boyfriend. But destiny had other plans, tying him to a five-year relationship while you were bound in a three-year commitment of your own. When your unfaithful partner betrayed you once more, Chan became your guiding light, reminding you of your worth just weeks before his tragic end. As friendship kindled into something more, an intense love grew within you, surpassing mere friendship. Respectful of his relationship, you kept your feelings in check, even though you didn't truly care for Chan's girlfriend. She transformed from a cheerleader to an OnlyFans personality, lacking the depth you believed Chan deserved. But who were you to decide his path? Despite their arguments, he found fragments of happiness with her... at least, when their love wasn't overshadowed by bitter fights every other week.

Tears welled up, spilling over your waterline, as thoughts of him consumed your mind once more. Desperate to escape the crushing weight of guilt that enveloped you, you sought distractions, attempting to forget that you blame yourself for his untimely departure. His family held you responsible too, believing that if only you hadn't taken those shortcuts through dimly lit alleys after your bowling night, the mugging would never have occurred. It was in that moment, face-to-face with a hooded figure, demanding your wallet, that Chan's selflessness emerged. Without hesitation, he confronted the assailant, triggering a violent response. The stranger swiftly plunged a blade into Chan's abdomen, tearing upward through his fragile organs before vanishing into the night.

As his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, blood staining his shirt and spreading with alarming speed, you were rendered utterly helpless, reduced to screams of despair. With trembling hands, you pressed against the wound, begging, pleading for him to stay, to hold on, your desperate pleas piercing the air as you cried out for help. A cook on a smoke break nearby heard your anguished cries and dialed for an ambulance. He handed you a grimy towel, urging you to apply more pressure, even as Chan slipped away, inch by agonizing inch.

"I... I think I'm... dying," he choked, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, impeding his speech.

"No! You can't be dying! Don't you dare leave me, Chan! Don't you dare leave me like this!" you screamed, your voice strained and desperate.

He gasped, his lungs drowning in a sea of crimson. "I'm... sorry..."

Those were his last words before his body turned limp, the light extinguished from his eyes. You trembled uncontrollably, your body racked with violent sobs, cradling his lifeless form in your lap, willing him to awaken. It had to be a terrible nightmare, a cruel figment of your imagination. It couldn't be real...

Tears streaming down your face, you snatch a nearby mug and hurl it with all your might, watching it shatter against the wall. The sobs come pouring out, a torrent of frustration at the unfairness of life. How could it take away your best friend? You would have given the mugger everything you had, knowing that material possessions could be replaced, but not the irreplaceable bond you shared with Chan.

Without bothering to wipe your tear-stained cheeks, you rise unsteadily and stumble into the bathroom, flicking on the humming light above. The room comes alive, illuminating your trembling figure. In your hand, you clutch a bottle of newly prescribed psychiatric medication, its lid beckoning you to open it and plunge into a sea of pills. It's not the first, second, or even third time that you've contemplated consuming the entire bottle, escaping from this world altogether.

But then, as if echoing from the depths of your soul, you hear Chan's voice, a gentle reminder that pierces through the darkness.

‘Don’t be stupid, that won’t fix anything’

Taking a deep breath, you swallow the prescribed dose meant to help you weather the toughest storms. You tilt your head under the faucet, quenching your thirst as the water washes down the medication. With a swift motion, you turn off the tap and wipe your mouth with the side of your arm. Glancing briefly at your reflection in the mirror, you observe your disheveled appearance—a ponytail barely holding your hair in place, the emergence of weary bags under your eyes, a sight you've never witnessed before. The image worsens the pain within, reminding you of the toll this grief has taken. With a heavy heart, you exit the bathroom, your hand dragging along the light switch, plunging the room into darkness before retreating to the solace of your bedroom.

The bed lies in disarray, a nest of tangled sheets and blankets inviting you to seek solace within its embrace. Collapsing onto it, face first, you release a heavy sigh, shutting your eyes tightly, desperately wishing for a touch of magic to undo everything that has unfolded. Doubts persist, refusing to release their grip, leaving you questioning whether this reality is nothing more than a haunting nightmare or a cruel trance from which you are yet to awaken.

A tap at the window brushes against your senses, but you dismiss it as yet another figment of your restless imagination. The pills are beginning to take effect, gently lulling you into a peaceful slumber amidst the chaos of your bed. Another tap, insistent and persistent, echoes against the glass pane. Your mind races, reminding you that your apartment is situated on the fourth floor, rendering it impossible for anyone to be knocking on your window. Fear grips your heart, the notion of an intruder scaling your fire escape sending shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you lunge for your phone, intent on dialing emergency services.

"Don't do that!"

Time freezes as the unexpected voice reverberates through the room. Your finger hovers above the final digit of 9-1-1, your eyes darting up to the window. Darkness surrounds you, but the moon's radiant glow and the streetlights outside offer a faint illumination, revealing the silhouette standing before you, but the math still isn’t mathing for you yet.

“You’re not crazy, I promise.”

You feel yourself growing nauseated.  What type of sick psychosis is this? Was someone playing a trick on you?

“Let me in.”

Surely that voice sounds just like Chan, hell, the silhouette is lit enough for you to see the outline of his face, but your brain still can’t make sense of it.

“Y/N let me in and I can explain, but it still won’t make any fucking sense.  I didn’t have anywhere else to go just…please.”

His plea resonates deep within your being, compelling you to rush towards the window, swiftly unlatching it and pushing it open. Disbelief washes over you as you behold the figure before you. It's Chan, undoubtedly, from head to toe, but he's adorned in a suit that exudes an unmatched elegance, surpassing anything he ever wore in his human form.

"I must be going insane," you mutter, the words escaping your lips at last.

"No, you're not," he replies, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Casting a glance around, he heaves a sigh. "Can I come in?"

Furrowing your brows, you find yourself utterly perplexed. “W-What the fuck is going on?”

"I can't enter unless you give me permission," he explains, his voice tinged with urgency. "And I can't explain it all out here. Just... tell me I can come in."

Your mouth opens, then closes. With guarded uncertainty, you finally utter the words that will forever alter the course of this enigmatic encounter. "You can come in."

"Finally," he murmurs, effortlessly climbing through your window. You watch in wide-eyed astonishment as he surveys your room. "Did a tornado sweep through here or something?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air as you remain rooted in place, your mouth slightly ajar. Chan settles on your bed, patting the space beside him. "Sorry, probably not the best timing for jokes right now."

"Are you some kind of ghost?" you stammer, desperately seeking an explanation for the inexplicable.

"You're incredibly stubborn, you know that?" he retorts, patting the bed insistently. "Just sit."

Reluctantly, you take a seat beside him, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He reaches out and clasps your hand in his own. It's chillingly cold, like grasping an ice pack pulled from the freezer. Startled, you snatch your hand back, inching away from him.  “What the fuck is going on?”

"I'm still trying to figure that out," he admits, tilting his head slightly and hooking his index finger under his lower lip, revealing a lengthened fang that stands out amidst his otherwise perfect teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me, Chan," you exclaim, struggling to believe your eyes. "Are you... Are you a..." The word hangs on the tip of your tongue, too unbelievable to utter.

"A vampire?" he finishes your sentence, his voice tinged with a strange mix of resignation and disbelief. "I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't woken up in the crematorium, lying on an examination table."

He looks down at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time.  “The mortician came in once he heard me freaking out.  He was so calm, it was scary.  He handed me these clothes, and told me I had a second chance.”

As you listen to his words, the medication begins to take effect, both soothing and disorienting you. Part of you believes that this must be a dream, a hallucination that will fade away upon waking. "Vampires... they're real?" you mumble, the words feeling unreal on your tongue.

"The mortician, the one who took care of me after... after that night, he turned me," Chan explains. "He told me there are others like us, vampires, including the lead cardiovascular surgeon at Greatview Hospital and many more scattered across the country."

You freeze, your eyes scanning his figure intently. "No," you utter, rising to your feet. "No, this can't be true." You repeat the words, trying to convince yourself that you're experiencing a psychotic episode, a figment of your traumatized mind. "I saw you die in my arms."

"I remember," Chan replies gently, his voice now softer and more reassuring. Your guard momentarily falters, accustomed to finding solace in his voice. “Look, I haven’t shown myself to anyone.  Not my parents, friends, anybody.  I didn’t know where to go, so I came here.”

“I still can’t believe this.  I took my meds and I’m hallucinating.” 

Chan raises an eyebrow at the mention of medication. “Meds? Since when are you on medication? For what?”

You stretch out your hands in front of you, gesturing dramatically towards the undead being standing before you. "I watched you die!"

"Can you please stop reminding me?" Chan pleads, sighing and rising from the bed. You instinctively take a step back, then another, and another.  “I get it, this is really fucking weird, but I’m trying to figure it out too, and you’re the only one I can trust to help me sort through this.  Please,” He walks towards you and you take another step back, and another, and another.  Chan’s eyes were pleading, and even as a human, you had never seen him so desperate.  It was pulling at you in ways you couldn’t understand.  “Help me?”

Your back meets the wall, and you find yourself mere inches away from him, lost in his familiar comforting gaze. Perhaps it's the medication surging through your system or the undeniable connection you share, but your fear begins to dissipate, replaced by an inexplicable pull towards him.

"Okay," you whisper, surrendering to the magnetism drawing you closer.

In that instant, he closes the remaining distance, pressing his body against yours, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that defies all expectations. This is nothing like the countless times you've imagined your first kiss with Chan.  Despite the unnatural circumstances surrounding him, he is here, in your room, kissing you with lips colder than anything you've ever experienced.   Chan was cold like ski vacations that turn into arctic nights with blinding blizzards.  He was cold like making snow angels in the remotest sundries of Antarctica.  And yet, against your heated warmth, it melded and melted you into a dizziness that made you wonder how someone could kiss you like this.  His scent evokes the desperate burning of cedar by humans seeking warmth to survive. He doesn't breathe, his stillness reminiscent of being stranded in the untouched frozen tundra. His taste is like the hidden depths of an iceberg lurking beneath the surface of the sea.  Surely humans weren’t capable of such otherworldly capture of the senses in these inexplicable ways.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs securely wrapping around his waist, as his hand finds support on the wall. With graceful precision, he lowers you down the wall, gently laying you on the floor, making you feel weightless like a delicate dove feather. His lips part slightly, revealing the tips of his sharp teeth just beneath his pale, plush upper lip. You're captivated by the deliberate way he undoes his watch, letting it fall with a thud on the carpet alongside his jacket. His focus on undressing himself is almost ritualistic, as he meticulously undoes each cuff of his sleeves. Was he always like this, or did the blood of his maker course through his veins, influencing his every move?  The man above you existed twenty four days, twelve hours, and forty six minutes ago, yet he carries the essence of centuries within him.

“Have you drank blood yet?” you manage to breathe, your gaze fixed on his fingers skillfully unbuttoning his shirt. The question momentarily halts his actions, his eyes still locked on the task at hand. It's a brief pause, lasting only a second or two, before he resumes, his gaze now locked with yours.

“I haven’t bitten anyone.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s what you meant, though, right?”

He looks down again, pulling his shirt from his slacks, the last button falling and revealing his sculpted shoulders as he works on his belt. Your heart races in your chest, the earlier ease dissipating. How did he know? You and Chan shared a deep connection, but it's as if he just read your thoughts without even glancing at your face. As your eyes follow his gaze to the golden, slender belt buckle, you can't help but notice the undeniable hardness that tents the front of his pants.

"The mortician who turned me... he said I'm not ready," Chan reveals, swiftly removing his belt in one fluid motion. Feeling the electricity in the air, you take charge and unbutton his pants, stealing the spotlight for yourself. "Your heartbeat fills my ears, it's so loud. I've been trying to ignore it this whole time, but it's like a pulsating drumbeat," he admits, his relief palpable as his hardness finds release, causing his head to tilt back. It's not just the longing he has harbored for being this close to you, although that's a significant part—it's the way you look at him, the way your pulse quickens, the hitch in your breath—it all makes him crave you, body and soul. He wants to devour you, if he's being completely honest. So he counts the seconds it takes to undo his cuffs, the buttons lining his shirt, hoping to distract himself from the thirst welling up in his mouth that he keeps swallowing.

"A drumbeat," you echo, your voice trembling. "But don't you love music?"

"I do," he replies.

"I thought you couldn't live without music."

"I can't."

"Then... we're okay, right?" you inquire, your hand running along the length of his hardened desire, the cool fabric of his briefs the only barrier between you and its icy touch. Your gaze never wavers from his, a silent plea for reassurance. You want to see the Chan who died protecting you; the Chan who would vanquish this version of himself, even if it meant embarking on a fool's mission.

"You won't hurt me, will you?"

He may not require breath for survival, but the sensation of your touch makes his breath audible, escaping in short, jagged gasps that his teeth can barely contain. You can see it, and you can hear it—the rhythm of his breath intertwined with the flex of his firm muscles, like woven iron beneath his pale, milky skin.

"I could never hurt you," Chan professes, his words laden with sincerity, yet tinged with a sense of unease. He wonders if he can truly bear the weight of that promise, given his newfound struggle with self-control. He captures your lips once more, as you navigate his briefs in a hurried frenzy, responding to his kiss with a fiery intensity. You strive to avoid his fangs, the smooth ivory points that pose a dangerous threat against your swollen lips. Your breath becomes heavy against his mouth as you feel him pressing against your entrance, teasing you with deliberate strokes, spreading slickness and igniting electric shocks throughout your body. Each tiny quiver you make when he brushes past your sensitive clit only serves to undermine his initial plan of taking things slow. Plan A was to resist giving in to desire, but that failed, so Plan B was to proceed with caution. And yet, you were compelling him to venture further down the alphabet until he had exhausted all his options.

Curiosity overtakes you, and you tentatively reach up to touch the tip of his fang, a tad too eagerly, causing your finger to prick. Your reflex pulls away, but before you can retreat an inch, he thrusts inside you and firmly clasps your wrist, bringing it to his lips. It startles you; you've never seen him move so swiftly, almost as if he had teleported. There's no escaping his cold vice grip, and fear grips your heart. You want to protest, to plead for your life, but the words elude you when he fills you completely, his strokes caressing your most sensitive spots again and again. He takes your finger into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the wound, cleansing the blood. In that moment, you sense a shared eroticism, amplifying his pleasure in a primal manner.

He must be on Plan D or E by now, but all semblance of order dissipates when you moan his name and rake your nails down his chest. "Please, bite me. Pretty please? God, I just... I need to feel you—"

Chan's body hovers over yours, his cheek pressing against yours. “Stop begging me like that–”

"Or what?" you challenge, your back arching, breasts pressing into him as your bodies move in sync and he ruts into you. The pace slows, intensifying the sensation, pushing you closer to the edge. It's like a row of slot machines aligning at the casino, anticipation building, and you're on the verge of breaking, so close, incredibly close.

“Shi–you’re such a fucking brat–” Chan huffs against your neck, taking in your scent.  It was like blueberries grown in the sunshine were in a basket underneath your skin.  He knew exactly where each vessel ran.  He could tell the difference between the pace of your veins and the race of your arteries.  Each stroke inside you sets his fangs throbbing with need, and soft, guttural groans escape him as he tightens his grip on your hair, propelling both of you towards the precipice.

"Chan..." You try to utter his name, attempting to warn him, to give him a heads up, but words fail you. You're reduced to incoherent babbling, your body spasming and your toes curling. Chan curses into your skin as his sharp teeth break the surface, sinking into your shoulder. He can't halt the inevitable rush of his bite, but he steers clear of major arteries. Regrettably, the bite is deeper than intended, its edges jagged. Once he withdraws his fangs, you feel the warm flow of your own blood cascading down your shoulder. The area quickly goes numb, sending tingling shivers coursing through your body, catching you off guard and propelling you into another climax. It's an unexpected surge of pleasure, enveloping you completely. You've witnessed stars in moments of intimacy before, but now your vision becomes veiled in ethereal auras, akin to cumulus clouds bringing tempestuous weather directly into your bedroom.

Chan's mind goes blank, his instincts taking over as he sensually licks your breast, tracing a path up your collarbone, and back to the healing wound where his hunger led to the mingling of his own blood with yours. Within seconds of savoring your life force, he’s filling you up, his dick buried inside of you as he pulls your hips harder and lets out a broken moan of release. The pleasure tears him away from his consuming desire to drink from you, his hips jerking as he empties himself inside you.

Finally able to catch your breath, you realize he was like oxygen, taking you to another world, albeit a temporary escape. But now, the metallic scent of blood brings you back to reality, a reminder of the way he ravaged your shoulder earlier. The carpet beneath you is damp and sticky, soaked with spilled blood. However, as you touch the area, there's no evidence of the incident on your skin.

"I think it's gone," Chan helps you sit up on the floor, examining the spot on your upper back. True enough, it's smooth, the dried stain of blood serving as the only reminder. "I don't know how, but it's gone."

You touch the area in disbelief. "Wow, it's like it never happened," you say, struggling to recall the intensity of the bite. Concerned for Chan, you ask him if he's okay, considering the overwhelming experience you both just shared.

Chan's expression turns uneasy, his attention abruptly drawn to the window. Confusion and worry cloud his features. "I think... I think I have to go," he stammers, hastily retrieving his clothes and dressing himself as if compelled by an unseen force. He buckles his pants, hurriedly pulls on his shirt, and stumbles toward the window, his actions urgent. You panic and follow after him.

“What’s happening?!”

"I... I don't know. I think I have to go. I just..." Chan collapses to the ground, clutching his ears, crying out in pain as images of the crematorium flash through his mind's eye. "I'll come back another time," he manages to say, raising the window, and in an instant, he's out and down the fire escape, disappearing into the whispers of the city winds.

[fernsnailz]

Not sure if you’re familiar with Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time but I feel like Sonic Prime is the animated version of that game like the plot/style doesn’t really fit Sonic games while Crash both stays in that arcade jungle setting AND has the shattered time and space themes which they focus heavily on the recent game. The villains already are a bunch of scientists and I feel like either the team from Crash games or someone specific like Nicholas Cole just slapped Sonic Prime on the script for a Crash Netflix show and edited some characters

okay i understand the point you’re trying to make, but unfortunately you sent this ask to someone who works in animation and i need to set the record straight here: that is not how TV animation works

first, you’re right that Nicholas Kole worked on both Crash 4 and Sonic Prime! he’s also done work for the Spyro series, some Disney projects, and a bunch of other cool stuff. however, he specializes almost entirely in character design and concept art. this means that he helped develop specific parts of the visual look for Prime REALLY early on, such as designing some of the characters like Knuckles the Dread. however, that was likely the extent of his involvement in the show. character designers and concept artists normally do not edit the script, and often these artists draw their concepts before the script is even finished.

this is all stuff that happens VERY early in a show’s development, so Kole’s work on the show is probably multiple years old by now. and yeah, that jungle art DOES look a bit like the stuff that he did on Crash 4… because that’s just what Kole's art style looks like. he uses bright colors and varied shapes in a really distinct way on EVERY project he works on, which is probably why they hired him on Prime!

but even if that concept art was inspired by Crash, the jungle universe doesn’t even look like the concept art in the final version of the show! because it was concept art!! it was meant to be an exploration in styles, not a definitive look at the final product. this jungle below is a COMPLETELY different look than what was explored in the concept art. it sooooorta looks like the style of Crash 4, but it's FAR different from the initial concepts presented earlier.

(any person who modeled and painted this environment would ALSO have to be a dedicated Crash fan if they wanted to just turn Sonic Prime into Crash Prime)

and so far, this is completely ignoring the fact that the jungle concept art included in the ask probably isn't even Kole's. it looks very different from his style to me, and as far as i can find no artist has actually been credited for the leaked Prime concept art floating around. Kole has only mentioned his contributions to the character designs on Prime.

this is all a HUGE tanget from the actual argument you're trying to make in this ask, and i apologize for that - but my main point here is that this is a trend i see a lot in online fandoms, where people really like to place blame for issues in media onto one specific person and say "hey it's THIS guy's fault that this show is bad." what a lot of people don’t seem to understand is that these are collaborative art forms. there are so, so many people who worked on Prime, all the way from the first draft of the script to when it was being exported for Netflix, and a lot of these people probably don’t even show up in the credits! if there’s something you don’t like about this show, it’s unfair to single out a specific person to blame because TV shows are not made by one person. they come from a team of artists all working together to try and make something great, not one of the concept artists trying to turn the new sonic show into Crash 5. Nicholas Kole is a single character designer that worked on Prime. he is not solely responsible for an artstyle that you may dislike, because he is not the only person that developed the artstyle. there is no specific person to blame here.

regardless, i can’t really say much about your main point concerning the similarities between Crash 4 and Prime because i don't know as much about Crash series. my instinct is to just go “yeah of course they’re similar, multiverse stories with brightly colored rocks are the big trend in all franchises right now and they’re both 3D platformers from similar eras of gaming that have always featured cartoon talking animals fighting evil scientists, so of course they’ll seem alike.” but hey i mean what do i know

that's all, please know that this isn't meant to be an attack against you or anything! i'm just really used to seeing people blame individual artists and animators for stuff that isn't their fault, and i'm just. kinda tired of it. i will also spare you from my second ramble/disagreement about a sonic game or show in the crash style. because i think that would look fuckin INCREDIBLE

[bitchcakegreen]

Let’s chat about this for a moment. Many are blaming this on Netflix splitting the season like that did, meaning that only half of the season falls within the Emmy selection time frame. But that’s only part of a bigger issue. While Netflix did somewhat prevent anyone from the show being nominated for Emmys because of the split, there is also a huge bias against romance properties.

What I mean is no one was going to get nominated for writing, acting or directing anyway. Costumes and makeup might have been, but not the three categories mention. Hollywood and the guilds don’t think romance is a viable genre and they tend to look their noses down on it. Same with the superhero projects. I remember the absolute shock when Elizabeth Olsen received a nom for her performance in WandaVision. A much deserved nom because her performance was so layered and intense.

But with romance, it’s always been the genre that people ridicule and belittle - usually while consuming it like rabid dogs - it’s not “art” and therefore not “worthy”

Which is a damn shame. Bridgerton has become a phenomena, especially this season, and instead of focusing all the hardwork the day and crew put in providing a nuisanced, layered and lush show for people, they ignore it as fluff.

There is a bias against Netflix when it comes to awards. The studio system and the powers that be don’t appreciate Netflix or Amazon Prime, despite both being a huge force in filmmaking. I remember when a Netflix documentary was nominated, and won, an Oscar. People were livid. That opened the door for more respectful viewing but the noms are still slow to come.

I think several folks should be nominated for Emmys from Bridgerton, for wigs and costumes alone, but sadly it’s not to be this season. Maybe in the future the Emmy guild will yank that big old stick out of their collective asses about romance.

One can hope.